Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: This Fucking Dream
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"...A dream?"
It felt like I'd had an incredibly nostalgic dream. Though honestly, it was something that happened just the day before yesterday...
There was a line you were supposed to say at times like this...
"...."
Ah. Right, I remember now.
"This fucking dream."
Yeah, that's right. That's the national rule.
Even without an alarm, my eyes snapped open on their own.
The throbbing headache, pounding away with murderous intent, was alarm enough.
"Urgh..."
If only rolling out of bed with a sigh would return me to my original body.
But no, I was still in that room. The uninhabited island of a modern city where I'd washed up.
Dingy interior. Spacious layout. The bed was ridiculously plush. Had to be expensive.
"Groan..."
A groan escaped my lips unbidden.
I might not have woken from the dream, but if I hadn't caught that flu at least, maybe the wrecked condition from overdosing on sleeping pills would've recovered by now.
Dousing a body fresh off a suicide attempt with pills in alcohol—who the hell comes up with that idiotic idea?
I did. I was the idiot.
I'd done it thinking that once I returned to my original body, whatever came after wouldn't be my problem.
But unfortunately, nothing happened, and I was still stuck in this unidentified strange space and unfamiliar body.
So now, cleaning up the mess falls to me?
No, but shit.
Isn't this pain a bit much?
"Ahk..."
And moaning in a woman's voice created this indescribable feeling.
Damn it. I should just keep my mouth shut.
Opening my eyes, I saw the light streaming through the window tinged red.
Sunset already, huh.
Not sure if "already" fits, though.
Anyway. While I'd been out cold from the meds and booze, dreaming my ass off, time had kept marching on.
Moving my body around, everything felt stiff. Like my whole body was packed with bruises. Especially from my lower back to my hips—it felt like something was seriously wrong.
Even sitting still, it felt like it would crumple up on its own, and twisting it around produced endless creaking sounds.
My body didn't feel like my body anymore (which it literally wasn't).
I pushed my legs toward the floor and flung myself out of bed.
I somehow managed to stand, but every step sent jolts through my head.
Grinding my teeth, I made it to the window. The studio apartment had blinds, but sunset light seeped through the gaps.
Thinking back, it was weird that I hadn't bothered checking outside when I knew nothing.
Actually, the thought had crossed my mind.
I'd probably just been too scared and pretended otherwise.
"Shit."
My poor imagination could conjure dozens of ominous futures.
This could be cyberpunk 2060s, or a zombie apocalypse outside the studio.
Of course, it was extravagant and pessimistic thinking.
But what could be more extravagant than possession or transference?
"Get it together... No, the voice again. So damn pretty, it's distracting as hell."
I forcibly pieced together my fragmented thoughts.
Once you start tacking pessimistic "ifs" on, there's no end to it.
I needed to learn something—anything—to sort out the dizzying mess in my head.
First things first: the window right in front of me.
Steeling myself, I raised the blinds. Thankfully, no post-apocalypse or cyberpunk dystopia in sight.
It was a crimson-tinted but utterly ordinary residential neighborhood.
Similar-height buildings lined up ahead, their white paint glowing scarlet in the sunset.
And there it was, the familiar name X-States, welcoming me like an old friend.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Korea, confirmed.
This room seemed pretty high up.
The people below looked tiny.
Not skyscraper high—maybe 7th or 8th floor?
Peering closer at the little figures, I saw a mother and daughter holding hands. The kid in a taekwondo uniform, walking alongside her mom.
Good. Positive intel. At least no zombie apocalypse.
Meaning I wouldn't starve locked in this room...
I wasn't even sure what nonsense I was spouting to myself.
"For now... that's enough."
Right now, grasping the situation was priority one.
A bit dramatic maybe, but after that, I needed to secure the basics of survival.
Clothing, food, shelter—the human fundamentals.
If this place was rented, I might not even cover next month's rent and get evicted tomorrow.
Not that pessimistic? She killed herself.
No weight to the hypothesis of some savings left in the bank.
Worst case, she'd blown her fortune—and maybe racked up debt—before suicide.
Extreme, sure, but with a face like this, an extreme backstory felt more natural.
And now I might inherit that mess... Loan sharks piling up outside, monthly interest in the millions, collectors lurking in back alleys.
...Hadn't I just told myself no negative thoughts like five minutes ago?
"Fuck..."
What good does avoiding pessimism do?
My situation was pessimistic and extreme.
Yeah, that last bit was too far.
Savings aside, chased by debt collectors? That's some soap opera shit.
Steadying my spinning head, I blinked my unfocused eyes.
To confirm everything was really okay, I needed info now.
Forcing my gaze around the room.
As I said before, spacious and barren. Wardrobe, liquor cabinet, bookshelf, desk, bed. That was it in this huge room.
Messy arrangement made it feel cramped, but it was objectively large.
Scanning again, the desk stood out most. Or rather, what was on it.
The sleeping pills scattered across it drew the eye, but something more important was there.
A monitor. More precisely, the whole desktop setup.
"...!!"
Right.
The internet.
Thinking about it, wasting time brooding a hundred times over was way less efficient than one quick search.
Wonder why it took me this long to think of it.
Beats clutching my aching head, at least.
I plopped down and checked under the desk for the tower. Prodded around for the power button.
...Couldn't find it easily.
After fumbling for a while, lights suddenly flared up.
I hit something, got a beep, and colorful lights lit up—the "light" was actually the power switch.
Coolers whirred loudly. Gaming PC, obvious at a glance.
Monitor screamed money too, and so did the tower. Owner might've been a total gamer.
Lots of books at home, mystery genre fan, and a gamer to boot.
Building some affinity here. Feels like parallel worlds or something.
Rifling through the PC would reveal it soon. In modern society, a personal computer is a treasure trove of info, a hub of private life.
First things first: SNS or messenger. Email at minimum would be gold.
Any concrete details would help sort this chaotic mess. I clung to that hope.
"Fuck."
That hope was worthless.
...But thinking back, it was obvious.
Might wanna question why I hadn't considered it sooner.
If a PC is a personal info hub...
No way it'd lack a password.
And the owner naturally entered her eight-digit code daily—impossible for an intruder like me to guess.
"…."
Frozen before the login screen, I spaced out for what felt like dozens of seconds until the monitor went dark in sleep mode, snapping me back.
My goldfish-tier mentality screamed, urgency kicking in—I reached for the keyboard.
First, I tried the last four digits of my usual password.
Of course, no dice.
I'd hoped this body was parallel-world me using the same pass, but naive much?
"...."
Calming my racing heart, I took a deep breath.
Lotta deep breaths today. Maybe the most in my life.
Next: 11111111, 12345678, 00000000.
Keyboard clacked satisfyingly under my fingers.
My heart, meanwhile, burned away.
Results weren't satisfying either. All rejected as invalid.
For kicks: 14789632 clockwise, 12369874 reverse. Nope.
Slim fingers glided, punching in easy combos.
Looked cool, like playing piano. Pretty hands, the more I saw.
Results? Not pretty. All wrong, no change.
Scratch that—there was a change.
After five fails, 60-second lockout.
Backfired spectacularly.
But hey, penalty consolation: desktop gave a hint.
Unexpected luck lit me up, but the hint itself deflated me instantly.
"...?"
A single period.
I double-checked every which way, but that was it.
The so-called hint: just one lone dot.